


Limbo

by st_mick



Series: (Mis)Understandings [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Bridge - Freeform, Developing Friendship, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 10:54:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17641409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Ianto has returned from his suspension.  Some random moments through the following months.





	Limbo

Ianto returned from his suspension as though nothing had happened.  He was the same quiet, efficient, dependable employee.  And deeply ashamed, he redoubled his efforts to remain a non-entity.  Jack did what he could to keep Ianto from fading into the background, but it was difficult as he was still grappling with his own anger.

But not all of his anger was directed at Ianto.  There was plenty to go around, but he had looked back through the CCTV footage of Ianto’s time at Torchwood Three, realizing just how much the young man did and also recognizing how he had been treated, by Jack and the rest of the team.  It was dismally clear that Ianto had never been part of the team. 

Jack resolved to do something about that.  But after several clumsy attempts to speak with Ianto were rebuffed, Jack backed off.  It did not take long to fall back into old habits.

***

Jack was surprised that Ianto was the only one who did not blame him for what happened with the faeries.  Here was incontrovertible proof that Ianto could have used to support his claim that Jack was every bit the monster he’d been declared to be, that awful night.

But then Jack remembered what Ianto’s mother had said.  That Ianto had regretted his words.  Ianto had even alluded to that, though he’d not been particularly coherent, at the time.  But he had been bargaining for mercy, so perhaps he’d been dissembling.  Again.

Jack shook his head and reached for the decanter, pouring himself another drink.  There had been no looks of shock or anger or triumphant, righteous confirmation.  In fact, there had been no hostility or resentment, or even resignation.  Just a neutrality that bordered on kindness and a distant sort of empathy that was a balm, after the scathing anger and recrimination from the team.

The _rest_ of the team, he amended to himself, cursing himself for continuing to think of and treat Ianto as something outside of the team.  Wasn’t that part of the problem, part of the reason they’d gotten to this point? 

Jack understood that there would be no offer of comforting words or anything else so overt from Ianto.  But the fact that the younger man was refraining from joining in the hostility wrapped around him like a warm blanket.  He was hopeful it was progress toward Ianto forgiving him and starting to move on.

***

“All right, Tea Boy.  You’ll live.” Owen said, wincing inwardly after the fact at his choice of words.

“Yeah, thanks,” Ianto muttered as he rolled down his sleeves and refastened his cuffs, having endured these biweekly checkups to be sure there had been no lasting effects of his latest failure.

“You need to eat more,” Owen said, his voice almost not unkind.  “If I don’t start to see your weight increasing, and soon, I’ll have to get more involved.  Understood?”

Ianto nodded, the only indication of his feelings on the topic were the pinking at the tips of his ears.  Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?  He was doing his best to cope…

“Maybe,” Owen hesitated.  “Maybe go out on the pull, mate.  Get laid.  Doesn’t have to mean anything, other than blowing off some steam.”

Ianto snorted.  “Willing to write me a scrip for that?”  He instantly wished he could pull the words back into his mouth, but his temper had finally gotten the better of him.  His only consolation was that Owen seemed to abide by his promise that these moments were between doctor and patient, not coworkers, and as such were completely confidential.

Owen turned his head slowly, taking in the abashed face of the younger man.  “What do you mean?”  When no answer was forthcoming, he reached over to touch Ianto’s arm, startled when he flinched.  “Ianto, tell me what you meant by that,” he commanded, as gently as he could.

“Just,” Ianto squirmed, his face crimson, “not much joy in that department, since Can…” he choked on the word.  “Since London,” he finished.

“Wait,” Owen ran a hand through his hair.  “Look, I know you didn’t mean to bring this up,” Owen raised his hands in a placating gesture at the glare he got for his choice of words.  “But you did.  So now you might as well tell me.  Are you saying no sex, or no reactivity at all, or something in between?”

After a long moment, Ianto blew out a breath.  “Pissing’s the only thing it’s good for, anymore.”

“Christ, Ianto, why didn’t you say something?” Owen would have bet good money that the Captain had been at the kid, given his reaction to the cyberwoman in the basement.  But this put things in a different light, unless Ianto was had just been providing blowjobs or a willing hole.  But that didn’t fit with the Captain’s enthusiasm for enthusiastic partners, so...  He set those thoughts aside, for the moment.

“I’m only twenty-three,” Ianto whispered.

“Yeah, but you’ve been through a meat-grinder of a year.  Look.  Give it another month or two.  Let yourself heal from… everything.  If things haven’t perked up by then, we’ll have another chat, yeah?”

Ianto nodded and practically ran from the med bay.

***

Soon after, Ianto began approaching Jack self-consciously, seeming to want to take on more responsibilities.  Jack took it as a good sign, though it had been difficult to hear the young man speak of losing everything.  Ianto had said as much, the night with the pills, but Jack had thought he had merely been overwrought.  Surely he had more in his life than his mother and sister and Torchwood.  But to hear the same sentiment from the man when he was sober was enough to give Jack pause. 

From the time spent watching over Ianto, it had been clear that his mother saw certain aspects of her son quite clearly, but was completely oblivious to others.  She alluded to the fact that he really had no friends in Cardiff, as his school years had been ‘difficult’, and he was not especially close with his sister.  The rest of the team barely acknowledged him, and though Tosh was making awkward overtures of friendship, Jack doubted they were enough to break through Ianto’s grief, just yet.

He could not even imagine the isolation and loneliness Ianto must be feeling.  The only person who loved him was his mother, who did not really know him.  Ianto, who was so much more than he seemed.  He deserved to be seen.  To be understood.  To be known.  During the conversation, he had poured his heart out to Jack, saying he had nothing left in his life.

Jack cringed at the memory of his own response.  This was about so much more than Ianto wanting to ‘be more involved’.  The young man needed something – _anything_ – to cling to.  Something to give him enough purpose and hope to simply keep living. 

But to have given anything other than a shallow answer would have ruined any precarious progress they had made with the conversation and sent Ianto diving for cover, never to confide in Jack again.  And Jack found himself uneasy at just how much he hoped that Ianto would continue to feel safe, confiding in him.

***

After the cannibals, Ianto retreated behind his mask and suit, again.  It was more than a week before Owen declared him fit for more than light duty, due to the beating Ianto had taken in his attempt to help Tosh escape.  Jack was concerned, but he couldn’t really say why, because even a bruised and battered Ianto was impeccable, and his work was flawless.  Surely, Jack tried to convince himself, Ianto was coping…

***

**Author's Note:**

> (Mis)Understandings timeline:  
> Canary Wharf: 04.11.2006  
> Cyberwoman: 08.10.2006  
> Suicide Attempt: 08.14.2006  
> Return to work: 09.11.2006  
> Faeries: 09.19.2006  
> Countrycide: 10.09.2006


End file.
